


The Village at the Back of the Castle

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Epic Battles, Fluff, Homophobia, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Minor Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 09:37:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8008405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oikawa's grown up his whole life spoiled, until he meets the stupid bug-faced boy who messes up him up while he's practicing on hitting a target.</p><p>An au where Oikawa is the heir to the throne and Iwazumi's the boy who keeps him from the castle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1: The Rise

He first meets bug-face on the training ground, where it’s grassy on the sidelines and the sun warms the earth and air easily. It’s a beautiful day, when they’re both ten and only just beginning training.

He’s trying to accurately hit the target's bullseye.

Bug-face is trying to catch a beetle before he goes home.

He manages to hit himself in the face.

Bug-face laughs and loses the beetle he’d been stalking.

Tooru- turning red and offended- shouts crossly, “You distracted me! I’ll have you switched!”

Bug-face falters for a moment, a look of fear crossing over his eyes like basil leaves. He’s dark skinned, most likely from the village on the back side of the kingdom, and his hair grows in spikes that remind Tooru of the old porcupine living at the village zoo.

“What’s your name?” Tooru asks, setting down the sword and wiping the sweat off his palms.

Bug-face hesitates for a moment, curiosity replacing fear. “My name’s Iwaizumi,” he says after a moment, turning back to look for his lost beetle.

“Well, I’m-”

“I know who you are, your majesty,” Iwaizumi grumbles, sounding a lot darker than he had a moment ago. Tooru falters, not used to anyone talking to him with that tone of voice. Not even his scholars had that sense of… _anger_ in their voice.

“Oh. Well…” Tooru pouted and turned back. Who even cared! Iwaizumi was just another annoying peasant boy who he’d had control over soon.

Iwaizumi- with his new beetle friend crawling over his fingers- turns back and glances Oikawa over. “Why don’t you try again? Maybe this time you’ll actually hit the target.”

Then he _smirks_. As if _he_ could do better!

~~Maybe he could, Tooru doesn’t know him.~~

Tooru steels himself, picking up his wooden sword and taking up position before swinging the sword up and thrusting as hard as he can with the sword.

His arm’s hurt from where the sword hits the wood pole through the target, but he hit the bulls-eye.

“Ha! Beat that-” Tooru crows, but when he turns, Iwaizumi is gone along with his beetle.

 

Tooru goes snooping around the castle, asking around about the village children, looking for excuses to sneak out and look for bug-face. Yet he finds himself confined to the castle walls, only allowed out for training and walks with his mother in the garden.

Which is where he is now, idly picking at a camelia's petals before dropping the stem.

“You seem troubled, Tooru.”

Tooru huffs, crossing his arms. “No I don’t,” he grumbles, wrinkling his nose. “I’m just… concerned with my studies.”

His mother raises an eyebrow, eyes twinkling. Tooru likes to think he has most of her facial features, even if the colors don’t quite match. “Really? What about them?”

“They’re… boring! Stupid, boring, and distracting and I want to… find them.” He wishes his sentence didn’t falter at the end, he didn’t want her getting suspicious.

She hums thoughtfully, pretending to look interested at the cherry blossoms on the trees above their heads. “Well then, go find them.”

Tooru looks up at her, mildly stunned. She looks back, smiling. “I’ll cover for you,” she offers.

His face splits into a grin. He hops up on a nearby bench, wrapping his arms around her neck and pressing a sloppy kiss to her cheek. “Thank you, mom! I’ll be back before dinner!”

“You better, or I’ll come find you myself,” she teases, pressing a kiss to his temple and hugging him back. He giggled, letting go and hopping off the bench. He began running down the path, leaving his mother to wander the garden alone as he ran to the back of the palace, looking for the village boy with the beetle and green eyes.

 

Tooru’s never been into the village behind the castle, only seen it from windows and the gardens. From far away, it looks like any of the other villages in front of the castle. But up close it’s much more different.

It’s different from the other village, the people look different and act different. They speak in a language Tooru doesn’t understand, they bustle around and talk in a way that suggests they are all one big family. They give each other food, hugs, laugh, converse, but they all stop when they see Tooru.

They stop and stare, watch his walk past and the entire village square breaks out into whispers as he winds his way through the crowd.

He hates how they stare. It makes him feel separate, alone, like a candle in the middle of a dark room. Everyone can see him, but he can’t see them.

Tooru bites his lip nervously, and hurries out of the square. He’d just have to find Iwaizumi a different way. It wouldn’t be too hard right?

Tooru hopes this is true, as he heads down an alleyway.

 

He finds Iwaizumi while in a compromising situation. Two people- he can’t tell their gender, they have masks over their faces- have him up against a wall with a knife to his throat, speaking rapidly in the foreign language of the village. 

Iwaizumi is walking through the alley with a wicker basket perched on his hip when he sees the people, Tooru, and the knife.

Iwaizumi barks something, putting down a basket full of linens and raising a fist.

One of the people shouts something back, and Tooru wants to weep when they lower the knife.

Iwaizumi says something else, stepping forward and pushing them away from Tooru. He shouts something at them as they scramble away.

“I-iwa- Thank you!” Tooru actually does weep, wrapping his arms around Iwaizumi’s neck. Iwaizumi stiffens, but hugs him back after a moment.

Then he smacks him upside the head.

“Ouch!”

“What the hell are you doing here, idiot? Don’t you know what you mean to the village people?” He shouts, eyebrows furrowed. “Why are you even here!?”

Tooru sniffled, not quite ready to be yelled at. “I-i was looking for you!”

Iwaizumi falters, loosening his grip on Oikawa’s back. “Looking.. For me?”

“Y-yeah. Not because you’re interesting or anything though!” Tooru quickly states, pushing back and crossing his arms. “I just… wanted to see your beetle.”

Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow, like he doesn’t believe him- and he should!- but shrugs. “I lost it. You can go home now.”

Tooru splutters, trying to find an excuse, but a small stuttering voice breaks through. A small kid with freckles and hazel eyes is wandering towards them, giving Tooru a wary glance and burying his face in Iwaizumi’s back.

Iwaizumi says something to him, soft and comforting. It reminds Tooru of his mother, as he watches Iwaizumi pick up the child who can barely be more than five.

“Who’s that?” Tooru asks, glad for the distraction. The boy peeks at him, then hides his face in Iwaizumi’s neck.

“My cousin. Don’t talk to him, you’ll scare him,” he warns, turning away from Tooru and speaking softly to his cousin. Said cousin peeks over Iwaizumi’s shoulder at Oikawa, and flashes him a shy smile.

He has a gap in his front teeth.

“Your cousin is adorable,” Tooru cooed, smiling back at the cousin. “What’s his name?”

 

“... Yamaguchi,” Iwaizumi mutters, turning towards him. “C’mon, we can talk somewhere else.”

Tooru follows him, making faces at Yamaguchi- who’s giggles are just as cute as the person himself- and keeping an eye out for any strange villagers in masks.

 

It becomes a regular routine for them.

Tooru would sneak out into the back village, hang out and play with Iwaizumi, then spend the rest of his time around Iwaizumi’s family, crammed in a small village house that homes three combined families.

It’s where Tooru first learns that Yamaguchi is not actually Iwaizumi’s cousin, but the boy he shares a room with.

It’s where Tooru learns that milk bread is his favorite food, especially made by Iwaizumi’s grandfather.

It’s where Tooru learns that milk bread recipe, smearing flour on his forehead and dotting it on the end of Iwaizumi’s nose.

It’s where Tooru finds a home away from the palace.

It’s also where Tooru finds out Iwaizumi isn’t his first name.

“What?!” He shrieks, grabbing his best friend’s shoulders. “You said your name was Iwaizumi!”

Iwaizumi shrugs him off. He’s gotten muscled from training recently, putting Oikawa’s still flimsy arms to shame. “I didn’t trust you back then. I just gave you my last name. It’s no big deal, you don’t mind that I call you Tooru.”

“But you know my first name!” Tooru protests. Pouting, he demands, “Tell me it.”

“No.”

“Iwa-chan~!” Tooru whines, shoving his head into Iwaizumi’s shoulder. “Tell me!”

“No.”

“Iwa~!”

“No,” he shouts, shoving Tooru off.

“Fine! Then I’m going to tell Yama-chan you ate a bug once- hey! Is his name even Yamaguchi!?”

Iwaizumi snickers, eyes crinkling and shoulders shaking as he curls in on himself with laughter. Tooru gasps, placing a hand over his heart in offense. “Iwa-chan!”

“Did you really think I’d give you my cousin’s name when you barely knew him?”

Tooru huffed, turning and flopping backwards onto Iwaizumi. “So mean.”

They sit in silence for a moment, then Iwaizumi sighs.

“Alright, I’ll make you a promise.” He sits up, letting Tooru drop onto the wall with a thud before shifting to turn and face him. “I’ll tell you when I feel like you need to know. Alright?”

“That’s awfully cryptic, Iwa-chan,” Tooru hummed. He held out a hand, which Iwaizumi took and pressed to his forehead- their own way of making promises. “Deal.”

 

They are wandering through the back village’s paths, laughing wildly at Tooru’s impolite impression of one of his scholars. A man passes by, and spits something at Tooru in the native language of the village.

Iwaizumi blanches, and pulls Tooru away.

When he confronts him later, he waves Tooru off. “He was drunk or something. I couldn’t understand him.”

“Lying is bad for the soul, Iwa-chan,” Tooru teases. “Just tell me, I won’t break apart! I’m not some porcelain doll.”

Iwaizumi searches his eyes, then sighs. “He called you a spoiled bastard child.”

Tooru flinches, chuckling nervously. “That’s harsh. Why’d he say that?”

“Not everyone in the village is like my family, Tooru,” Iwaizumi begins. “Most know you mean no harm, but not everyone believes it explicitly…”

“Harm? What harm could I do, I’m just a kid,” Tooru jokes.

“You’re the son of a powerful monarch, Tooru.” Iwaizumi nervously looks away. “The same monarch who… enslaved us here. Won’t give us the decency to live at the front of the castle instead of being hidden away at the back of the castle.”

Tooru’s confused. Iwaizumi sounds a lot more mature than he surely is, but now he’s not sure. His father enslaves Iwa-chan and his people? But why?

“I don’t understand…” Tooru murmured.

Iwaizumi gives Tooru a sad look, before he gives it to him bluntly; “We’re slaves, Tooru. We’re meant to fight your wars for you and handle your crops and everything.”

Tooru doesn’t like the words slaves. The people in the back village are his friends, not his property.

When they head to Iwaizumi’s home in an uncomfortable silence. On the way there they meet the man again.

Tooru gets on his knees and apologizes profusely to the man, only leaving when Iwaizumi drags him away.

The man doesn’t try insult him anymore.

 

It’s a day where the garden’s are near abandoned and Tooru can wander them with Iwaizumi without any of the advisors, officials, or scholars giving them weird looks. They’ve grown a bit, both around twelve now. It’s a cloudy day, rays of sunlight only peeking out to cast shadows and then slip away.

“What’s been going on around the castle, lately?” Iwaizumi asks, dragging his fingers along the leaves of a bush.

“Some stupid scandal. No one will tell me about it. My mom’s been upset lately… she won’t even come out anymore,” Tooru sighed. He’s sitting on the path, watching Iwaizumi mess around with a rose before leaving it be on the bush.

“It’ll get better. She’ll get better,” Iwaizumi promises, giving Tooru a sympathetic glance. Tooru stares, before he sighs and looks down at his hands.

He sees Iwaizumi’s boots head over, before he squats down and fingers brush the sides of his face. “Hey.” Iwaizumi’s voice is soft, the tone he uses to console Yamaguchi when he’s paranoid or panicking. “Look at me.”

Tooru listens, not liking how tears prick at the corners of his eyes. A shaft of sunlight chooses then to spill light onto their little patch of path, casting Iwaizumi in a golden glow.

“Everything will be okay. Nothing bad will happen, alright?” Iwaizumi asks, pressing his forehead to Tooru’s. Tooru is distracted though, feeling a slight realization rush over him as he recalls his last thought before Iwaizumi pressed their foreheads together.

_He’s beautiful._

 

Everything’s not okay.

Everything’s awful and Tooru wants to scream.

They killed her.

They killed his mother.

The scandal was about her. She’d been meeting with some maid in secret, behind the locked doors of her chambers and in the hidden parts of the garden. She hadn’t denied any of it. Didn’t even try to.

They killed the maid first, hung her publicly. Then they killed his mother behind the closed castle walls.

He didn’t even get to say goodbye.

 

He’s in Iwaizumi’s room, curled up on his bed with his head between his knees and heaving sobs leaving his numb body.

Iwaizumi’s in the kitchen, making him a batch of milk bread and warning Yamaguchi to play outside with his mysterious friend no one in the families seen.

Tooru startles when the door to the room opens, interrupting the quiet whimpers leaving Tooru’s body. Iwaizumi’s holding a plate stacked high with milk bread. He closes the door with his hip then crawls onto the bed with Tooru, pushing the plate in front of him.

“Eat,” he murmurs, rubbing circles onto his back. “You’ll feel better. It’s my best batch yet.”

Tooru sniffles, and takes one. He bites into it and starts sobbing instantly.

Iwaizumi instantly is hovering, demanding he chew and swallow before he chokes and then let it all out. Tooru listens, chewing, swallowing, and then sobbing louder.

“I-i just… W-want to say goodbye!” Tooru wails, fisting a hand in the sheet and crying.

Why had she let that stupid maid get the best of her?

Why didn’t she just stay faithful?

Why didn’t she try to find him before they killed her?

Iwaizumi’s hugging him, humming the notes of a song Tooru doesn’t recognize. When Tooru quiets down, he starts to sing it. It’s in his native language, and Tooru doesn’t understand. Iwaizumi’s voice is rough, uneven, and it’s clear he’s in a stage of changing from a boy to man, but it’s soothing and Tooru feels himself slump into Iwaizumi’s embrace as his last whimper dies out.

Iwaizumi’s song dies out, and they sit in silence just waiting to be broken.

“Hajime.”

Tooru sniffles. “What?”

Iwaizumi shifts, wiping away a stray tear from Tooru’s face. “That’s my first name. Hajime,” he murmurs, eyes intense in the dim lighting of the room.

Tooru’s lips quirk up, not quite a smile but not frowning anymore.

Tooru think’s he can understand why his mother chose the maid.

 

“Hey, Iwa-chan.”

“Yes?”

“Can you call me Oikawa, from now on?”

“Yeah, of course. Why?”

“That… that was her original last name. Before she got married.”

“Alright. Of course.”

“Can you say it?”

“Oikawa.”

 

Oikawa’s thirteen and Iwaizumi’s still twelve when the king remarries. The wrench he marries is uglier than his mother in Oikawa’s opinion- although Iwaizumi’s grandfather shakes his head and calls him biased- and they son they have is even uglier.

He hates Tobio with a passion and wishes him the worst.

Tobio even tries to _play_ with him, making grabby hands and _smiling_ as if they’ll ever be friends or brothers.

They won’t. They _never_ will.

Oikawa takes up the habit of tuning out family conversations at dinner, ignoring everyone but Iwaizumi for a long time.

 

Soon they’re going to split up; Oikawa going for training in other kingdoms, Iwaizumi going to finish his training to become a knight. Yamaguchi promises to join Iwaizumi soon, insisting on bringing along his friend- Tsukishima’s the name of the rude little bastard- who is the brother of a knight.

They’re both sixteen and ready to mature, in the king’s ‘ _grand opinion_ ’.

“You’re going to write, right?” Oikawa asks, fidgeting. He’s looking out the window, chewing on his thumb nail. Iwaizumi’s on his bed, braiding pieces of dyed leather together into something he won’t tell Oikawa about.

“Of course,” he mumbled, eyebrows furrowed in and tongue poking out slightly.

“Good,” Oikawa sighs. He wanders away from the window, instead crawling on the bed to rest next to Iwaizumi. “Still won’t tell me what you’re making?”

Iwaizumi only rolls his eyes. The white and teal leather twist around each other in a short rope-like braid. “Hold out your wrist,” Iwaizumi murmurs softly.

Oikawa complies, and Iwaizumi ties off the end of the braid around his wrist loosely; a bracelet.

“For memories sake.” Iwaizumi’s cheeks are red, and he rubs the back of his neck. Oikawa smiles.

He really doesn’t blame his mother now. He understands.

He only blames his father now.

 

Oikawa’s taken up the habit of kissing Iwaizumi; on the mouth, on the cheek, on the nose, anywhere he can. When Iwaizumi asks him, with their hands interlocked and facing each other on his bed, he just shrugs.

“For memories sake,” he supplies, cryptic and not answering the question at all.

Iwaizumi never complains though and he continues with his habit.

 

Oikawa learns the concept of love while he’s in the island kingdom, eating tropical fruits and seeing odd animals such as ‘monkeys’ on the streets.

He’s reading a book, in a language he’s expected to know for a long time, when the struggling young protagonist expresses his feelings for the young lady love interest.

Oikawa understands. It’s the same feeling he gets when reading letters sent to him from Iwaizumi’s training camp buried deep in the mountains.

But he doesn’t think the scholars at the castle will see it the same way if he ever tried to explain it to them, so he keeps his thoughts private and his words appropriate.

He’s going to be king, after all, and nobody wants to diseased king.

 

He’s in his last kingdom before he can come home when he confesses to Iwaizumi, eighteen and having learned and seen as much as he could before he gets to return.

Oikawa’s scared he’s going to hate him, scared he’s going to freak out and avoid him, scared he’s going to take pity and try to make everything better. So he waits for a return letter, refusing to go back home until he gets it.

It comes in three weeks after he was supposed to go home.

Iwaizumi accepts, and ~~aggressively~~ tells him to hurry back so that he can see him again.

Oikawa makes it back in half the time it would have taken him if he hadn’t rushed.

 

The kingdom seems different when he returns. More people from the villages in front of the castle are swooning over him, cooing about how much he’s grown and how handsome he’s gotten.

Strangely, the people in front of the castle, who’ve loved him since birth, do not give him the feeling of strong familial bonds as the one in the back of the castle did, who hated him until they met him.

He lets the village people coo, and hurries to the castle, where Iwaizumi works as a guard now and helps provides for his family. 

He’s the first person Oikawa sees, standing tall in front of the throne room door with another guard.

They both bow.

Oikawa snaps at the other guard. “You’re dismissed,” he barks, jerking his thumb to some point down the corridor. The guard nods, shuffling away and avoiding eye contact.

Iwaizumi looks him over, but his face spreads into a smile. “You look good.”

“And you look short,” Oikawa taunts, feeling like his smile will split his face in half. It’s true, Iwaizumi used to be Oikawa’s height for a while until puberty hit. Though he may be shorter, Iwaizumi certainly didn’t look weaker in any sense.

Iwaizumi’s lips twist, and he looks mildly pissed, but Oikawa ignores that in favor of hugging the shit out of his best friend, childhood partner, lover.

 _Lover_.

“I miss you so much,” he murmurs into the side of Iwaizumi’s face, feeling his grumpy, short, _lover_ smile before arms move up to hug him too.

“I did too. More than you’ll ever believe.”

 

There’s a ball thrown in honor of the prince’s return. Oikawa instantly notices the lack of people from the village in the back, but knows better than to comment on it. He just lets himself steam in anger while he puts on a facade of happiness.

He dances, he flirts, he laughs, and he looks like he enjoys himself.

Once he has an excuse to be exhausted, he takes up a permanent station next to Iwaizumi and they talk.

Oikawa talks about all the different kingdoms and cultures and islands and animals. All the different lore and stories and languages.

Iwaizumi talks about all the friends he made and the brutal training and the beautiful scenery of the mountains that always surrounded him. All the different techniques he’s learned and the fun he’s had and the relaxing atmosphere of nature.

They talk with fellow lords and ladies briefly, making friends with two young lords known for goofing off and joking and pulling pranks. Oikawa likes the stories they tell, about their harrowing escapes from being caught as children and even now later in life.

But he mostly just wants to head back to his chambers, bring Iwaizumi with him, and kiss him everywhere. From his forehead, to his neck, to his chest, to even lower.

And as the party comes to an end, that’s exactly what he does, sounds of their reunion muffled behind the thick wood of his door.

 

They’re curled around each other in the morning, hands linked and faces inches apart. Iwaizumi’s eyes are different- wiser and full of emotion- and they crinkle when he smiles at Oikawa.

Oikawa smiles back, leaning forward and kissing his already kiss-bruised lips. “Good morning…”

“Morning.” Iwaizumi’s voice is sleep rough and thick, and he kisses Oikawa back tenderly. Oikawa feels like he could stay like this forever, tangled with sheets and his lover while morning light filters through the window.

Yet he knows it won’t last.

His nose wrinkles and he groans. “I’m going to have to see Tobio-chan today, aren’t I? And that wicked harlot…”

Iwaizumi gives him a stern look. “Don’t be rude. They aren’t bad people, you know that.”

“I do. That doesn’t mean I don’t hate them.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, and presses closer to rest his forehead on Oikawa’s. He sits up, getting dressed again. “When I grew up I never thought I’d sneak out of the prince’s room like some prostitute,” he jokes, buttoning up his shirt.

“I never thought I’d grow up to have my soul mate be a man.” Oikawa smiled, scratching at the back of his head. “Yet here we both are, aren’t we?”

Iwaizumi turns back and smiles. Oikawa decides that Iwaizumi’s smile makes a better replacement for the sun than any candle or fire out there.

“Here we both are,” Iwaizumi says, heading out to sneak out of the castle before anyone could question him for why he’s wearing last nights attire and why he has so many bruises on his neck.


	2. Chapter two: The Fall.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa's going to be king, Iwaizumi is going to be his guard. They're safe. They're okay. Until they aren't.

The first thing Oikawa _has_ to do is eat breakfast with his dad, the succubus, and their satanic love child Tobio-chan.

He’s six now, and looks like the perfect picture of innocence and youth.

Oikawa hates him. Hates his straight hair, stupid blue eyes, and the purity that seems to surround the little fucker like a veil.

“Tooru,” Tobio’s mother says like they’re old friends. “Why don’t you tell us about your studies. How were the other kingdoms? Meet any princesses that struck your fancy?”

Oikawa wants to roll his eyes back into his head. Yet he doesn’t, just smiles politely, strained.

“No. The other kingdom’s didn’t want to let me near them!” He jokes, wanting to punch himself in the face. Tobio’s looking up at him like Oikawa’s some kind of hero.

Oikawa hates that look of admiration.

He shoves food into his mouth. He chews, let’s Tobio’s mother make a few comments to his father before he continues. “But I did learn a lot. How other countries run everything, different animals and plants, stuff like that.”

“That’s wonderful, Tooru,” his father smiles. “You’ve matured so much over the past two years, and I barely got to see you grow! You must be taller than me by now.” The king chuckles, before turning to his wife and taking her hand.’

Oikawa wants to vomit.

He hates them so much.

“Well, I’m done! I’m going for a walk, don’t expect me back anytime soon,” he rushes, standing up and leaving before anyone can protest.He exits the dining room and shuts the door before anyone could follow.

He sighs, and heads for the back of the castle.

 

Oikawa’s happy to see the village people again, and they’re happy to see him too.

Two sweet elderly ladies coo about how much he’s grown, an older man laughs about a story he tells him, and Yamaguchi’s cute baby sister gives him the flower crown she’d been making.

Iwaizumi’s grandpa doesn’t give him such a warm welcome, too old to get up from his chair without help anymore. He just demands Oikawa makes him some milk bread, to prove he hasn’t forgotten anything.

Oikawa does so, listening to him talk as he starts making the batter.

“You just up and leave. You tell Iwaizumi goodbye but not me! Such disrespect. I oughta make you cook for two years and make up the time!”

“That wouldn’t work, Grandpa,” Oikawa teases, stirring the batter. “I can’t always leave the castle whenever I please.”

“Feh!” He shifts in his seat. “Who says they can keep you there? You’re going to be king soon, and then no one can tell you what to do!”

OIkawa snickers. “Grandpa, I’ll have to listen to the advisors. You just want me to make food for you!”

“It’s the only thing you and Iwaizumi are good for, besides making a ruckus playing.”

“Speaking of Iwa-chan, where is he?” Oikawa asks, looking around. He was sure he’d come inside with him…

Oikawa gasps, pausing from where he’s been pouring the batter onto the pan. “No...no way!”

Yamaguchi chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. He’s grown a bit, still skinny like when he was a child- how old was he now? Thirteen? Fourteen?

“You grew up so much! You’re still so cute- no fair!” Oikawa coos, pinching Yamaguchi’s cheeks and pulling him in for a hug. He briefly hears Iwaizumi scold grandpa for making Oikawa bake in his native language. Grandpa fired back something that Oikawa hadn’t heard before, but Iwaizumi’s flustered face told him it must of been something vulgar.

“Oikawa-san, you’re too nice,” Yamaguchi giggled, hugging him back. “How were the other kingdoms? Were they interesting?”

“The other kingdoms were great! In one kingdom they had giant dogs roam the street and play with their children,” Oikawa gushed, more willing to talk to Yamaguchi about the kingdoms than anyone back home. “Another had cute things called monkeys roaming the street and one had these amazing recipes for food and-”

“Slow down, idiot,” Iwaizumi barked, smacking him upside the head. “You’ll hurt his head with how fast you’re talking.”

“Rude, Iwa-chan! I’m just excited about- my milk bread!” Oikawa shrieked, catching the pan before it fell off the top of the stove. Grandpa laughed, choking on his breath and coughing through his giggles. Oikawa pouted, going back to preparing the milk bread. “You’re mean too, grandpa! Making me bake like this when we could be playing chess or having actual fun!”

“I’m too old for fun, but you three aren’t. Make the most of it while you can, or else you’ll end up like me,” grandpa sighed, sinking back into his chair. “Old, smelly, and making the future king bake milk bread for you.”

“That doesn’t sound all too bad grandpa,” Yamaguchi giggled, wiping a stray spot of batter off the side of the pan before helping Oikawa load it into the oven. Iwaizumi handed Oikawa a piece of flint, helping him make the fire beneath it.

“No.” Grandpa smiled. “No it really is not.”

 

Tobio’s taken up the habit of following Oikawa around. Sometimes he talks though the conversations never last long though- either Oikawa doesn’t feel up to making his father happy or Tobio can’t continue talking- but most of the time Tobio just watches.

It becomes increasingly hard to go out to visit Iwaizumi and Yamaguchi, and Oikawa finds himself increasingly becoming more annoyed each time he has to shift his schedule.

Finally one day, he just let’s Tobio follow him to the outskirts of the village. He let’s Iwaizumi come, not trusting Tobio not to spill to his stupid mother and their shared father.

“Is this your-” Iwaizumi begins, Oikawa doesn’t let him finish.

“Iwa, this is Tobio. Tobio, Iwa,” Oikawa grumbled.

Tobio looks up at Iwaizumi with something akin to fear- not that Oikawa blames him. Iwaizumi looked much nicer as a child- and moves to stand behind Oikawa.

“Hey there, nothing to fear,” Iwaizumi smiles. He holds a hand out, and Tobio takes it. “You’ve got a strong grip! You’ll grow up to be quite the fighter, won’t you?”

Tobio continues to stare and drops Iwaizumi’s hand. Oikawa rolls his eyes. “ _He won’t stop following me. The annoying shit_ ,” he complains in Iwaizumi’s native language.

“ _Don’t talk about him like he’s not here. He’s your brother_ ,” Iwaizumi scolds, hitting him upside the head without thinking.

Tobio’s eyes widen comically.

“Don’t panic, he’s just messing around,” Oikawa grumbles. 

Tobio gulps. “Dad says that those people are savages. You shouldn’t hang out with one, Tooru.”

“ _What_ did dad call them?” Oikawa barks. Iwaizumi looks indifferent, as if he’s used to it- which he shouldn’t be!- and Oikawa’s fist clenches.

“Oikawa, you’re scaring him,” Iwaizumi hisses.

“Wh-who’s Oikawa?” Tobio stutters, looking up fearfully at Oikawa.

Oikawa shares an uneasy glance with Iwaizumi, who shrugs helplessly.

“I am,” he answers at last. “But you can’t tell your mother or father. If you do I’ll dump you in the river!”

 

“ _Oikawa_ -”

“I won’t! I promise!” Tobio shudders, eyes wide.

Oikawa wrinkles his nose. Things with Tobio would never be easy, would they?

 

His father sets up his coronation for his twentieth birthday, which he hopes will take forever to get here. The king allows him to choose a personal bodyguard- as if he would choose anyone other than Iwaizumi- and then calls him up to speak to him in his chambers after dinner.

Oikawa’s never been more nervous in his life.

“You wanted to talk?” He closes the large door behind him, standing there while his father signs something at his desk.

“Yes. Come here, son! I don’t bite,” he chuckles good naturedly. Oikawa feels like punching him in the face, but instead he walks over and sits on the foot of the king’s bed.

His father took a breath, leaning back with a happy sigh. “Everyone in the kingdom loves you, you know? Everyone is proud of you, and can’t wait to see you mature as a king.”

Oikawa instantly hates where this conversation is going. “That won’t happen for a long time, they know that. Why overthink something you have no control over? You’ll only end up disappointed.”

“Still. Everyone can’t wait for you to take throne… and everyone can’t wait to see the wife you’ll take up in order to produce a heir.”

Oikawa feels like his blood stopped flowing in his veins.

He’d forgotten he’d even needed a wife, a queen.

“A lot of the other kingdoms are willing to offer their daughters,” his father chuckled. “But, I’ll le you choose. Whether it be high born royalty from a kingdom far away or the daughter of a lady in the villages.”

Oikawa gulped. He didn’t need one, and he sure as hell didn’t want one. Yet it didn’t seem like he had much of a choice.

“Okay. Thank you father…”

 

He sneaks out that night, and comes back with Iwaizumi. They curl up on his bed, and stare at the ceiling.

“Are you going to tell her? When you get married?” Iwaizumi asks, voice small.

“No. For all I know she’d tell someone else and everything would go to shit.” Oikawa sighs, tired of it already.

Iwaizumi hums, rolling over to stare at Oikawa’s profile.

“What is it?” Oikawa finally asks after ten minutes of staring.

“You’re beautiful,” Iwaizumi murmurs with a shrug. Oikawa feels his face heat up, and he hides his smile in the crook of his arm.

“So are you.”

Iwaizumi is just as bad as him at taking compliments, turning red and looking at the unlit fireplace as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world.

That’s okay. Neither of them can take good compliments.

Oikawa sneaks out of the castle and heads it to the village with Iwaizumi.

Yamaguchi’s panicking in his shared room, too small for both of them now. He’s curled up on his bed, a hand tangled in his hair and tears streaming down his face as he sobs. Iwaizumi instantly detaches his hand from Oikawa’s, rushing over to pull Yamaguchi into a hug.

“Hush, hush,” he murmurs, enveloping Yamaguchi in his arms. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Yamaguchi’s babbling in his native language, too muddled for either Oikawa or Iwaizumi to understand.

“You’re going to have to say that again, and speak clearly.” Iwaizumi wipes Yamaguchi’s tears away. Oikawa sits down on his other side, patting Yamaguchi’s back comfortingly. “It’ll be alright, okay?”

Yamaguchi choked on his own sobs, before he stuttered out, “T-they found out- We were just messing around! T-then he… He…-”

“They, he- Who are you talking about?”

Yamaguchi took a shuddering breath. “M-me and Tsukishima. We were just playing in his room then- then he k-k-kissed and- I didn’t push him away and a maid walked in and I-I just ran out- What if he’s getting punished right now?!” Yamaguchi’s confession progressively turned rapidly into sobs again and Iwaizumi held him tighter in his arms.

He exchanged a glance with Oikawa over Yamaguchi’s shoulders before he looked down again, eyebrows furrowed and wide eyes.

“It’ll be okay, alright?” Iwaizumi shushed. “The maid might not tell, and he’s the child of a prestigious Lady; no one will even _think_ about punishing him.”

Yamaguchi nods absently, sniffing wetly.

He didn’t bother to ask what might happen to him.

 

Oikawa’s wandering through the garden, when he sees Tobio playing alone in a grassy patch. Oikawa wants to leave, he does. But for some reason Tobio looks… lonely.

So he squats down next to him, and watches him play.

Tobio jumps, but continues playing- after glancing at Oikawa for a full minute- with his wooden toys.

“Do you want to play with me?” He asks after a few minutes, holding out a wooden horse painted white.

Oikawa hesitates, but takes it. “Sure. Don’t expect me to do this again though.”

Tobio shrugs, and smiles. He has his soldier attack Oikawa’s horse.

“You little poop!”

They play for what must of been an hour, before Oikawa gets bored and lets him continue playing while he fiddles with some carnations. He remembers the flower crown Yamaguchi’s sister gave him upon his return, and tries to mimic the weaving stems.

Once he’s done with his lopsided flower crown of white and pink carnations, he drops it onto Tobio’s head.

“What’s this for…?”

“Because I felt like it. I’m being generous Tobio-chan, say thank you,” Oikawa scolds, shifting to get up.

Tobio adjusts it for a moment, but smiles. “Thank you Oikawa-san.”

Oikawa thinks maybe he’d play with Tobio again, tomorrow or another day.

 

Oikawa heads down to the village after Iwaizumi throws fifteen rocks into his window, avoiding all of the guards and tiresome family members. Iwaizumi looks pale and horrified, but doesn’t let Oikawa ask.

He just drags him to the village.

 

There’s an awful wailing in the square, the sound of an entire village mourning the death of something innocent. Someone innocent.

Oikawa hears the anguished scream of a woman, her voice hauntingly familiar. He hopes to God it isn’t her, that it isn’t _him_.

“No… it’s not-”

Iwaizumi just gives him a sad look, unshed tears making his eyes glisten. 

“His mother sent him out to get water from the well… he never came back.”

Oikawa brought a hand up to his face, letting Iwaizumi pull him through the crowd. He couldn’t-

No, not Yamaguchi.

Yamaguchi’s mother let out another heart wrenching wail, broken sobs echoing around the square as everyone begins a song that can only be one of mourning. There’s a bloody sheet over a lump by the well, blood stains all over the square, and a long knife sits perched on the well next to a bucket of bloody water.

Bastards had the nerve to wash off their knife before leaving it there.

Iwaizumi joins in the song, and Oikawa hums along- he doesn’t know the tune. He never had to- while Yamaguchi’s mother’s and sister’s screams of pain howl away into the bright blue sky.

 

Oikawa sits with grandpa during the funeral. They both pretend not to see the tears, and hear the sniffles.

“Want me to make some milk bread, grandpa?” Oikawa hates how his voice cracks, how rough it is, how tear choked it sounds.

“Stay sitting, Oikawa. No one will be in the mood to eat,” Grandpa sighs. Oikawa nods numbly, curling in on himself slightly.

Iwaizumi’s room was going to be empty.

Yamaguchi’s little sister wouldn’t have a brother to play with anymore.

Yamaguchi’s mother wouldn’t have a dependable young man to go out and help with the chores anymore.

The entire family had lost a kindred spirit.

Oikawa didn’t even belong there.

Grandpa’s hand comes down hard on the back of his head, and Oikawa lets out a pathetic whine.

“Stop overthinking. You’ll fill up the atmosphere with all that brain buzz,” he grumbles, running his arthritis stiffened hands through Oikawa’s hair in some form of apology.

Oikawa nods, rubbing at his eyes furiously. “I’m going to… clean the dishes…”

Grandpa nods, releasing Oikawa’s head from his hold. Oikawa gets to his feet slowly, wiping at his eyes even though he knows the tears won’t stop anytime soon.

He goes to clean in the kitchen, only to remember that the family hadn’t gotten any water from the well that week.

 

Oikawa- finding it hard to pull himself out of depression- kept to sulking in his room, writing poems and ballads for Yamaguchi and Iwaizumi.

He realizes how close he could come to losing him at anytime, and stops writing.

He nibbles at the food maids leave him, grateful his father at least tries not force him into coming downstairs.

He loses his appetite in exchange for his thoughts.

Three weeks into moping, there’s a soft knock on his door.

“What?” His voice is rough and weak from misuse. When was the last time he saw Iwaizumi? Grandpa? Anybody?

“Can I come in?” The voice on the other side says. Oikawa doesn’t recognize it.

“Whatever,” Oikawa mumbles, not caring if they hear him or not as he faceplants into his pillows again. They do though, and the door creaks open slowly before it creaks shut again.

Tobio peeks into his line of view, eyes curious.

Oikawa wants to stab him in his stupid face. “What are you doing in here, Tobio?”

Tobio looks nervous, and rubs the back of his neck. “I- well. I know you said that… you wouldn’t do it again but can you please play with me?”

He even has his stupid toys clenched in his hands. As if he expected Oikawa to say yes or even respond at all.

Oikawa grabs him by the collar of his shirt and pulls him up onto the bed. “Five minutes, and five minutes only,” he demands, taking the white horse again.

~~They play for two hours, before Tobio leaves for dinner and drags Oikawa along behind him.~~

 

Oikawa’s turned nineteen and he’s gotten back to visiting the village, the three families in the too small house, and Iwaizumi.

Though, he prefers he be called Hajime these days.

They spend their days together like when they were kids, but now Oikawa has to stay in the castle longer for responsibilities and Hajime’s out training more often. He doesn’t tell Oikawa why though.

Oikawa doesn’t pry after the third time asking.

He knows it won’t be good, and would rather spend time being happy than agonizing over what he has no control over.

 

Finally one day, Hajime let’s Oikawa sneak him away into his room and they curl up together on the bed that has shared so many of their secrets.

“There’s a war in the North,” Hajime confessed, stroking his fingers over Oikawa’s cheek. “The king doesn’t want to waste his precious soldiers on it, so he’s sending out slaves. I was registered. We’re leaving in a month. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

Oikawa doesn’t respond, just leans forward and presses their foreheads together. He had a feeling something was going to happen. He saw his father hide the maps, the letters, the knights he’d never seen before.

“It’ll be okay,” he murmurs, hating how choked he sounds. “You’ll go, then you’ll come back a-and everything will be the same, right?”

“It will,” Hajime soothes, kissing the tears away. “I swear I’ll come back, I swear.”

 

They spend the month sleeping over in each other’s rooms, hands interlocked, spending minimal time away from each other. Oikawa’s taken to waking up earlier to visit, do half of Hajime’s chores. Hajime’s taken up visiting old places they hadn’t been since they were kids; the tree Oikawa got stuck in chasing a beetle for Hajime, the empty house they were convinced was haunted, the most secret part of the royal gardens where they’d spent time playing, kissing, and living.

The month ends, and Hajime leaves.

Oikawa spends the day weeping in grandpa’s room, where he’s taken up refuge in the softest bed they could buy instead of his rickety chair. Grandpa strokes his hair, hums a song for strength because his voice is too weak to sing anymore, and talks about how strong Hajime is. Ever since he was a kid.

He’ll come back.

_He’ll come back._

He _has_ to come back.

 

Oikawa spends half his days doing Iwaizumi’s old chores in the village, and the other half entertaining his father, the harlot, and Tobio-chan.

He’s playing in the garden with Tobio- not because he wants to, but because he has nothing to do- when Tobio pauses.

“Where’s your friend? The one from the back castle village?”

Oikawa grits his teeth, digging his nails into the weathered wood of the toy soldier. “He’s out protecting people. A real knight’s job.”

Tobio nods absently, nibbling his lower lip. “I wanna be like him when I grow up. I see him around the castle sometime, guarding you. He looks strong.”

“He is. He’ll be back soon,” Oikawa says, more to himself than Tobio.

 

Some days he’s forced to entertain young ladies from all over, all of them wanting his hand in marriage.

Or maybe it’s just their parents.

He doesn’t know, or care quite frankly. He wants Hajime to come back, not to pretend to choose between these different women.

They deserve someone who can love them, who doesn’t love someone else and merely tolerate them.

But he pretends to like each and every one, leaving his father pleased and the ladies pleased as well.

 

He hears good news of the war.

They’re winning. Little casualties, little injuries on their side.

Oikawa pretends the news doesn’t make him as happy as it does.

 

He spends time with the two lords from his ball, Hanamaki and Matsukawa. They’ve become a bit more tame, but they still pull pranks.

He listens to their newer stories, while they hold hands when they think he doesn’t see, and they pretend not to see the sad look he takes on as he looks out the window.

 

He’s feeding grandpa stew just before he passes away. He refuses to eat, hates how hot it feels and how it hurts to swallow.

“It’ll help you feel better, grandpa.”

“Don’t give me anymore! I don’t want to eat.”

Oikawa huffs, but puts down the stew. “Then what do you want to do, grandpa? You’ll get sick if you don’t eat!”

 

Grandpa doesn’t answer, just leans back to adjust himself before closing his eyes.

“I know, you know. About you and Hajime. Yamaguchi and that awful rich boy.”

Oikawa stiffens. “What do you mean, grandpa?”

“I know you two are in love, just like they were. Yamaguchi told me. About his kiss, crying about how he loved him. Wouldn’t stop blubbering until I smacked him upside the head,” he sighs, blinking his eyes open. “That’s the last conversation I ever had with him.”

Oikawa chokes down the sadness threatening to erupt in his chest.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because, I’m old and dying. I know love when I see it. I’ve never seen it carried over so long though, from childhood into adulthood,” he hums, blinking his eyes closed again. He breath rattles out in a sick sounding way.

“Grandpa, you’re mad,” Oikawa murmurs, pressing a hand to his forehead. “But… I do. I really do love him.”

“Good,” grandpa chuckles. “I was beginning to think I had made it all up.”

Those were his last words. Before he dozed off and passes away in his sleep.

 

He’s turning twenty when he hears that the battle is won and the warriors are coming back.

He stands out by the gates along with the rest of the crowd, not caring about the whispers of why he’s here and the elusive friend the village in the front has never properly met.

The soldiers file in the gates, weary and wounded. Oikawa cranes his neck. He doesn’t see him.

He doesn’t see Hajime.

He stays until the last of the stragglers have hobbled through, the severely wounded brought in on carts, and those bringing up the rears for protection have passed. He waits until the gates have closed, convinced he’s still coming.

Convinced he’s just falling behind.

Eventually, his father comes himself to bring him to the palace.

 

He’s curled on his bed, on the side Hajime always took when he took over. A paper tag is curled between his fingers, slightly burnt and brown with blood.

_004_

He sobs.

He cries like he did as a child, when he scraped his knee.

He cries like he did when his mother’s execution was announced.

He cries like he did when Yamaguchi’s funeral carried on and he watched grandpa.

He cries like he did when grandpa didn’t wake up.

He cries like he did when he got the response back, telling him he was loved, telling him to come back quickly.

He cries like he never did before, etching a new memory into his book of pain.

He cries, and adds tear stains to the burnt and bloodied paper tag in his hand, once tied around Hajime’s wrist, who is now a burnt crisp in a pile of burned bodies, somewhere on the battlefield he never got to leave.

 

He refuses to meet anymore ladies.

He refuses to join in dinner conversations.

He refuses to become king.

Father’s angry. “Who will take your place? I’m getting too old, Oikawa. Tobio’s too young. There is no one but you.”

Oikawa doesn’t respond, but nods. He’ll become king, and pass one decree.

 

The coronation comes.

He refuses to let it be held unless the village people from behind the castle can come.

Father’s lip curls, but he says nothing.

Everyone cheers.

He wants to lie in his bed again, curling his fingers around the paper tag tied to his wrist now, and just lie there.

He smiles and waves to the girls, the ladies, the lords, the boys. He smiles and waves when they leave, smiles and waves to Tobio after he wishes him goodnight.

He spend the night staring at his ceiling, stroking the tag, eyes burning.

 

He ignores his advisors advice, ignores their indignant squawks at his proposition. He writes the decree right in front of them, ignoring every word they say.

“As soon as he turns eighteen,” he says, after stamping the royal stamp onto the paper. “Make Tobio king.”

“That won’t be for another nine years! You had more time to prepare, and he’s not king material-”

“He’s blood related. He’s not a bastard. What could possibly stop him?” Oikawa snaps, slamming his fist on the table. “I’m done here. Post this by morning or I’ll do it myself.”

He slams the door in their stupid, gaping faces.

 

**... as the new king, I hearby decree that all of the slaves from the village in the back are now freed. They are to gain equal rights as those in front of the palace, they are to be able to live as those in front of the palace, and they are to be treated as those in front of the palace. Anyone doing otherwise will receive punishment, ranging from time in the stocks to death.  
**

Your king.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Kudos and Comments are always appreciated!!

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, thanks for reading all of that! Kudos and comments are appreciated, please leave them <3.


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